A Tinkerer's Tale: Sonya Shepard
by thievinghippo
Summary: Stories, prompt fics and drabbles involving Sonya Shepard, engineer. Garrus/Femshep will be the focus, but others will show up occasionally.
1. Date Night

Here you will find random drabbles from across the Mass Effect universe. The stories are in no particular order. I just write them when the mood strikes. I call them 'headcanon drabbles' because they represent thoughts I have about the characters and game, but can't really fit them into bigger stories. So I write smaller ones.

The focus will mainly be on Garrus/FemShep. The Shepard in these stories is all the same, Sonya Shepard. She's a earth born, sole survivor who mainly walks the paragon side.

**Date Night**

The door to Shepard's cabin opened. Garrus didn't bother looking up, wanting to concentrate on the latest e-mail from his task force. There were days he felt like he had a hundred different jobs, advising the Primarch, dealing with his task force long distance and his role as gunnery chief on the Normandy. This was one of those days.

He assumed Shepard would understand if he didn't give her an enthusiastic greeting. An assumption he doubted when he heard a datapad crash into the wall above their bed.

"Shepard?"

"Shit!" Shepard took a step down the stairs. "Sorry, didn't realize you were in here."

"What'd the datapad do to you?"

Shepard walked over to him, to the small desk in the living area she told him to consider his. The chair wasn't all that comfortable, but he liked having a solid surface to work on. Leaning over, she slid her cheek against his mandible.

"Just received an official answer from the Alliance brass," she said, sitting on the side of the bed. "They are denying my request for an Executive Officer to be assigned to the Normandy."

"You're kidding me," Garrus said, putting down his datapad. "You're drowning in paperwork."

"According to the message I got, since Normandy is operating with a skeleton crew and our missions are generally classified..." Shepard lay on her back, placing her hands on her stomach. "They don't feel that they have anyone with the appropriate skill and clearance level."

"Skill? You need someone to work the crew duty roster and deal with requisition requests, not detailed technical work or anything." Garrus just shook his head. He would never understand the Alliance. Never.

She propped herself on her elbows. "We are never going to get to go on a real date, cause I am never going to have free time, ever. Again."

Garrus stood up then and sat next to her. "We will someday. We'll dress up, go to a bar, it'll be great," he said, nuzzling her neck.

For a moment, he felt Shepard just give in and not think. Those moments were rare and never lasted very long. Sooner than he'd like, Shepard broke their embrace. "Speaking of paperwork." She reached behind for the datapad she had thrown earlier. "We need to go over this."

"What is it?" Garrus asked.

"Pressly had you fill out a bunch of forms when you joined the SR-1, right? New ship, new forms."

"You're joking. Those forms took more than an hour to fill out," Garrus said.

"Wish I was. And I'm supposed to talk to you about your stipend," Shepard told him.

Garrus shifted uncomfortably. "Stipend?"

"You have an official role on this ship, unlike the SR-1. You get a stipend."

"The hierarchy is already paying me to be here, as a liaison," Garrus said. "I don't want the Alliance's credits."

Shepard sat up and glared at him. Honestly glared. The type of glare she gave Sovereign and Harbinger. "Garrus, if you refuse this stipend, I will have another three different forms to fill out. Please just sign it and fill in your bank account information."

"Right now?"

"Just... soon. It's payday on Friday and if this form isn't complete by then there's another form I'll need to deal with."

"And here I thought being the commander of a starship was supposed to be an exciting job."

"It is if you have an XO," Shepard said, her voice sad. "I miss Pressly. That man knew his paperwork."

"There's no one on the ship?" Garrus asked, putting his arm around her waist.

"The next ranking officer is Cortez, but he has his hands full with the armory, requisitions and being the shuttle pilot. He almost has as much paperwork as I do. I couldn't do that to him," Shepard sighed.

"Traynor?"

"She's barely treading water dealing with all the com traffic."

"Then the answer is obvious." Garrus ran his talon down her arm. "Vega."

Garrus couldn't help being pleased at the genuine laugh he heard.

"Oh god, have you ever read his mission reports? It would take more time correcting his work than doing it myself." Shepard looked at him and put her hand on his thigh. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to come in and just complain all night."

"You're fine, Shepard," Garrus said, letting his forehead rest on hers. After a minute, he stood up and clapped his hands. "Get up and grab all the paperwork you want to get done tonight."

"There's a definite difference between what I want to get done and what I can realistically complete, Garrus."

"Bring it all," Garrus said, picking up a few datapads of his own. "Let's get a change of scenery. We'll do paperwork together in the Observation Lounge. It'll be romantic."

"Romantic?"

"Exactly. We'll grab some food, put on some music, stare out at the stars."

"Hmm..."

Garrus slowly put his arms around her. "Maybe try to distract each other once in a while, and hope no one walks in..."

"We could always lock the door," Shepard said, sounding amused.

"We could, but where's the fun in that?"

Shepard shook her head with a smile on her face. After grabbing her datapads, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek.

"It's a date."


	2. Loosening Up

James stalked into the observation lounge, needing a drink.

The doors opened and he saw Shepard and Garrus scoot away from each other on the couch, which probably meant they had just been making out. He understood the whole 'when they mood stirkes' concept, but _damn,_ she did have her own cabin. Which would give them a lot more privacy. Then again, maybe that was the point.

He wasn't one to judge.

"Hey Lola," he said, heading straight to the bar. "Scars."

"Jimmy," Garrus said with a nod of his head.

James looked through the impressive collection of alcohol and couldn't find the bottle he wanted. "Where the hell is the rum?"

"I think we're out," Shepard said. James chuckled. She rarely drank herself, yet seemed to know the ship's alcohol inventory at all times. _Huh._ Made sense, actually. A ship's commander probably should have an idea how much their crew drank. James made a mental note to remember that when he had his own command.

Denied of his rum, James grabbed a bottle of vodka and a shot glass. He wasn't looking to get drunk, just take the edge off. After topping off the glass, James threw back the drink. Vodka always burned his throat, and he couldn't help but grimace a bit.

"Mind if I join you?"

Shepard gestured to the seat across from them. "Always welcome, Vega. You okay?"

James settled back and crossed his ankle at the knee. "Yeah, I think."

"Spit it out, Vega."

"I think I pissed off the Primarch somehow," Vega admitted.

He watched Shepard and Garrus exchange a look. Shepard leaned over, resting her elbows on her knees. "Why do you think that?"

"Not sure, just got this feeling."

"What happened?" Garrus asked, leaning back on the couch.

"I'm working in the armory, right? Primarch comes down, starts running laps. After a bit, walks over to me, asks if he can use the punching bag."

"You tell him no?" Shepard asked, surprised. "You always let people use that bag."

"Course I didn't say no. Not my bag, just in my space. And it's the freaking Primarch."

Shepard raised her hands in mock surrender. "Sorry, sorry."

"The guy's been running ragged lately, no? So I asked him if he wanted to spar, maybe loosen up a little," James said, going back to the bar for another shot. That's when he noticed their faces.

Shepard had her hand over her mouth and Garrus, well, James was shit at reading the guy's expressions. Amused, if he had to guess. Yeah, definitely amused. He was getting better at this.

"Jimmy… ah, how do I explain this to him, Shepard?" Garrus stood up and walked over to the bar. Grabbing a bottle of blue alcohol, Garrus added, "You basically hit on the Primarch."

"What?" James slammed down the bottle of vodka. "No I didn't! Just asked if the guy wanted to spar."

"You also told him he should loosen up," Shepard added.

"I don't follow," James said, shaking his head and pouring another shot of vodka.

"How much should we tell him, Garrus? I don't want to scar him for life."

Garrus carefully poured himself a drink. "All you really need to know, Jimmy, is that telling a turian to loosen up is basically saying you want to have sex with them."

"Huh." James took a moment let this stink in. Then he shrugged. "Explains his reaction, then."

"What'd he say?" Shepard asked.

"Just said he was flattered, but not interested. Didn't end up using the bag."

"You want me to talk to him?" Garrus asked.

"Nah, I'll explain it to him next time he's down the in the bay," James said, throwing back his shot.

He sat back down and cracked his neck, ignoring the glare from Shepard. She hated that sound. A thought hit him. "Wait a minute…"

Shepard crossed her legs. "Something else?" she asked.

James slowly looked between Shepard and Garrus. "You told Garrus to loosen up this morning."

Garrus brought his hand to up to rub his neck while Shepard covered her mouth, looking like she was trying hard not to laugh. "Yeah… well…" Garrus said, glancing at the ceiling.

He thought about it some more. "_Dios,_ you two tell each other to loosen up all the time!" He jumped up and went to pour himself another drink.

How did that even work, really? With a turian and a human? What did loosening up have anything to do with anything? Did turians have that different parts than humans? Shit, he needed to be drunker to deal with this.

"Well, that's just great," Shepard said, not hiding her laughter anymore. "Now we have to think of a new code.

"I'm just gonna pretend I didn't hear that." James threw back another shot. "Least the Primarch's not pissed at me."

An awkward silence fell over the lounge.

"Can we change the subject now?"

"Gladly."


	3. Proposal

"On our way to your location."

Shepard lets out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. The waves of reaper troops has finally stopped and she's ready to admit she's tired. Garrus and Javik walk up to her as she looks around the ruble of London.

"We have a couple of minutes to catch our breath," she tells them.

Javik crouches down and lowers his head while Garrus stands next to her, leaning on a wall. Shepard fishes out a couple of ration packs from the casing in her suit. Two levo, one dextro. She always carries dextro supplies just as Garrus always carries levo.

It's a testament to how exhausted Javik must be that he accepts the bar without hesitation and eats it eagerly. She's never seen him eat before. Garrus' bar is gone in three bites, and hers almost as quickly.

Shepard feels Garrus' arm on her waist as he brings her in close. She leans against him and rests her head on his cool metal chest piece. Normally Shepard would never allow a display like this in a war zone. Then again, normally Garrus wouldn't either.

Her mind is going a million miles an hour, wondering how many people are dying as they wait. How many ships they're losing. If they end up beating the reapers, would there even be enough people left to rebuild?

And then she forces herself to stop.

Mordin told her once that he needed to personalize the fight to make sense of the coming battle. That's what she needs to do now. Before, she might have been fighting some grand cause, trying to save everyone in the galaxy. Refusing to accept 'ruthless calculus.' She glances at the beam. But for this fight, this specific fight, she needs to fight for _him._

For them.

"So Garrus," she says quietly, not wanting Javik to overhear. Shepard takes a breath and tries to memorize every inch of his face, "if you want me to have your scary hybrid babies, you going to marry me first?"

The look on his face breaks her heart; it's so full of love, trust... and hope. He taps her nose with one of his knuckles, with a tenderness she never would have dreamt possible of him four years ago. "No knocking our mutant spawn, Shepard," he says gently. "They'll be beautiful."

"Yeah," Shepard says, her voice breaking," they would be."

She thinks of the future they'll never have. And Shepard can tell by the distressed hum coming deep from his chest he's thinking the same thing. Sometimes, late at night, when Garrus was curled around her, she let herself dream of that future. Not of hybrid or krogan babies though. She wanted strong turian children. Like him. She wanted to give a future to some angry orphans.

He weaves his hand through her short hair. "But, yeah, to answer your question... That's the first thing I'm doing when this is over. Proposing. I watched vids." He leans forward and touches his brow to hers. Their eyes meet and she feels a jolt of electricity. His voice is low and gravely and pierces her in her core. "So you better have your answer ready."

"I will," she says, and the words hang between them as a promise.

She knows it will be time soon. She can hear the sound of Anderson's convoy approaching. The proper thing to do is to get to the front and be ready to meet them the moment they step off the tank. But Shepard simply can't tear herself away from Garrus. They might only have minutes left together. So for once in her life, Shepard decides to be selfish.

She disrupts the crew.

Shepard places her hands on either side of his neck and pulls him in for one last kiss. His arms tighten around her and he returns the kiss.

The convoy stops and she hears soldiers getting out of the tanks. She tries to block it out and think only of the feeling of his mouth plates next to her lips, his tongue against hers, their lives entwined.

The soldiers around them are probably staring, but she finds she simply doesn't care.

The kiss ends and he slides his scarred mandible against her cheek. Shepard doesn't have a mandible to return the gesture, but like him and kissing, she does the best she can.

"Shepard." Anderson is calling her. From the sorrow in his voice, she knows he's sorry to be pulling her away. It dawns on Shepard that in all the time Anderson has known her, more than fifteen years now, this is the first time he's ever seen her in love. She wonders how it looks on her.

Garrus walks with her to the admiral, their hands brushing as much as decorum allows. Discussion ensues. Harbinger beckons. The Crucible is ready.

It's time.

Their eyes meet and their hands find each other once more. A quick squeeze, a reminder that there's No Shepard without Vakarian. Garrus takes a step back, at her six until the end.

And they run.


	4. Lessons

Cheiloproclitic - Being attracted to someone's lips.

A prompt fic from tumblr. I sort of failed at the prompt, but am pleased with the final result.

Also, the title of this fic has changed. I decided I wanted it a bit more personal for my Shepard. Sorry for any confusion!

* * *

"Now this," Garrus said, sliding his scarred mandible across the edge of her jaw, "is a private display of affection."

"So 'don't do this in public, Shepard' is what you're saying?" she grinned, settling herself back on the pillows.

She reached for his hand, trying not to be amazed that she was able to reach for him at all. They had survived the Omega-4 relay. She had severed her leash from Cerberus. Soon they'd be on Illium where the ship would be repaired. And best of all, she and Garrus were currently naked in her bed, cooling down after getting the battle lust out of their systems.

This," he said, leaning over her, and gently touching his brow to hers, "you can do in public."

Shepard turned to her side and scooted a bit closer to Garrus. He responded by putting his hand on her waist. Another private gesture, not to be done in public. In turn, she slipped her fingers underneath the back of his mandible, stroking the soft hide she found there. Hand _on_ the mandible, public. Hand _under_ the mandible, private.

As lessons went, Shepard had to say this one of her favorites.

His fingers tightened around her waist. "So what about human gestures?" Garrus asked, sounding almost eager.

Her hand left his mandible and Shepard felt her cheeks redden. She was glad his visor was sitting on the nightstand so he didn't see her body temperature climbing. The notion that he truly wanted to know warmed her heart. Because by now she knew if Garrus didn't want to know, he simply wouldn't ask. She wondered if he felt the same way when she had asked him to show her how turians show affection.

Shepard took his hand off her waist, and placed their palms together. Her lips pursed slightly trying to remember how their fingers fit together before. But that was when he had been moving above her and the only sensation that mattered was _him._

Turned out she didn't need to remember; Garrus did. He linked their fingers together. Her thumb, his. Her index finger then his. Her middle finger next to his second finger, followed by her ring finger and pinky. With the slenderness of his hand, the hold felt natural. Right.

"Public or private?" he asked.

"Both," Shepard responded. "And this isn't just a romantic gesture. Friends hold hands, parents and children. Anyone you want to feel closer to."

"What else?"

She studied his mouth, wondering if kissing was going to be even possible. Turian mouth plates were flexible enough for language, but kissing? Shepard hadn't even thought to try during the two times they'd been together. She briefly wondered how wrong it would be if she kept count. Maybe make a spreadsheet. She did love her spreadsheets…

As her brain thought of possible headers (initiation, position, completion), Shepard brought her face close to his. Garrus didn't flinch, didn't even blink as she softly pressed her lips against his mouth plates.

The kiss was only a peck, just slightest amount of pressure, but enough that Shepard wanted more.

"That's a public kiss," Shepard told him.

His thumb stroked her cheek. "And private?"

Shepard leaned in, pressing their mouths together. This time she lingered, feeling the different texture and shape to his mouth. Her lips didn't fit naturally against his plates like their hands did.

But as she kissed him deeper, there was no doubt in her mind that they'd find a way to make it work.

She opened her mouth slightly and darted her tongue in the small open space between his mouth plates. As her tongue brushed his, she put her hand on his waist, wanting to get closer.

His reaction was unexpected. He pulled away and looked conflicted.

"Garrus?" she asked, trying not to feel hurt.

"Sorry, sorry…" Garrus brushed him thumb along her lower lip. "That's normal? Touching tongues?"

Her brow furrowed. "Very. What's wrong? You haven't had any problem using your tongue anywhere else." She tried not to shudder remembering just how well he had used his tongue.

"Well, yeah, that's… It's just- Touching tongues is considered a bit… deviant."

"Oh." Shepard hoped the disappointment didn't show in her face. She knew going in there would be compromises. And if tongue kissing was one of them, she'd just have to roll with it.

He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her flush. "But since you've already made me a deviant, let's give that another shot."

Shepard couldn't help but laugh. She put her hands on either side of his face and kissed him again. She moved her lips slightly, intrigued that she could feel a difference in his plates from the scarred to the non scarred side. And she waited for him to make the move.

She felt the tip of his tongue caress her lips. They broke apart for just a moment to take a breath and went together again. This time he slipped his tongue in her mouth and slowly stroked her tongue with his. Shepard fought to keep still, not wanting to push him. It was almost painful how desperately she wanted to touch him, but she knew he needed to judge this on its own merits.

Finally he pulled back. Shepard raked his eyes, hoping to get some idea of what he would say before he said it.

But instead of speaking, Garrus brought their mouths together again eagerly, sliding his tongue against hers. Shepard returned the kiss impatiently, tugging on his cowl to bring him even closer. His moan told her he didn't mind being a deviant. But then again, neither did she.

And so the lessons continued.


	5. Dance

For a tumblr prompt - **Tarantism -** The urge to overcome melancholy by dancing.

* * *

As Garrus had told her earlier, it had been a hell of a day. But for all that had happen, she was in a surprisingly good mood. Cerberus hadn't stood a chance once the Normandy arrived. And that bastard, Kai Leng… Well, he showed his true colors when he ran like he did.

She strode into her cabin, feeling her face flush slightly at the sight of Garrus reading a datapad on the couch. He had been doing this more and more lately, spending his free time in her cabin even when she wasn't there. She had told him a while back to consider the loft his space as well, and it pleased her more than she could say that he finally was.

The look he gave her as she sat down next to him was one of weariness.

"I knew close to half those officers Cerberus killed," Garrus said, shaking his head. "Either by sight or by name." He threw his datapad down on the couch. "Damn it, Shepard."

She moved so that she was straddling him and carefully brought her brow next to his. He squeezed her waist and for just a moment they simply let each other be.

Then Shepard jumped out of his lap. The last thing she wanted was to compound Garrus' sadness with her own. Not when Thane's prayer rested heavy on her shoulders. They needed a pick me up.

Shepard walked over to the room's omni-panel and flipped through the menu, looking for a specific song. When she found it, a smirk settled on her face.

"I know that look," Garrus said, arms resting across the back of the couch. "What are you planning?"

"Me, plan?" Shepard asked. "Never." She pressed the touchscreen and music filled the room.

Once Garrus recognized it, he groaned. "Seriously, Shepard?"

She started dancing towards him slowly, her steps not even close in time to the techno beat. "Heard this song is a great way to seduce someone," Shepard said, holding out her hand towards him. Her feet kept moving to their own private beat. "Might have even worked on me once."

"Really." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Seem to remember someone turning off the music at the absolute first opportunity."

Shepard raised her arms over her head, stretching her torso in a way that always got Garrus' attention. "Hey, it set the mood."

"Right," he snorted. He reached for her hand. "Get down here."

"Oh no, Vakarian," Shepard said, trying to imitate a hip swivel she'd seen Tali do once. She failed miserably. Garrus looked like he was going to bust his gut trying not to laugh. "You get up here."

"You want me to dance with you?"

Shepard nodded as she attempted a complicated turn that was a staple in Miranda's moves. She had to put her hand on the coffee table to regain her balance. "Damn right I do," she told him.

He feigned a long suffering sigh. "Fine," he said, putting his hand in hers. Shepard helped him to his feet.

Instead of dancing to the beat, Garrus drew her into his arms. Shepard relaxed against him, letting him set their rhythm. They slowly swayed back and forth. "What," Shepard said, "Not willing to really dance? Afraid I'll show you up?"

"Hardly," Garrus said. "This is for the good of the galaxy, Shepard. You're gonna hurt yourself if you keep at it. We can't have that."

Shepard laughed and linked her hands behind his neck. "Fine," she told him. "Plenty of other ways for me to show you up anyway."

"Oh really," he said, nuzzling her neck. "In what subjects could Commander Shepard possibly school Advisor Vakarian?"

She grinned. "Shooting… The bedroom…"

Through her uniform, Shepard felt Garrus nip her shoulder lightly. "You seriously think you can out shoot me?" Garrus asked.

"That's what you take from what I said?" Shepard laughed, unlatching the chest piece of his armor. "You'll just have to prove some day that you can beat my aim."

Garrus put his gloved hands on her cheeks. "Well, maybe I will."

"You do that," she said, her mind thinking of much more important matters. They were both far too clothed for her liking.

"Now for your other challenge," Garrus said, taking his gloves off one at a time. "That I think we can settle right now…"


	6. Dreams of Omega

"Officer Vakarian!"

Garrus forced himself to continue taking his sip of beer and not to look up. No one outside of his growing team knew who he was. And none of them would be stupid enough to actually say his name outside of their base. As far as the rest of the galaxy was concerned Garrus Vakarian was MIA.

He was surprisingly okay with that. Garrus refused to dwell on why that might be.

Trying to seem casual, he placed his glass on the table and looked up.

He couldn't quite place the human walking towards him, a wide grin on his face. The man was wearing battered N7 armor. A comrade of Shepard's perhaps? After Saren's defeat, back on the Citadel, a number of people, mostly Alliance soldiers, would walk up to him and thank him for his service. Whenever it happened, his plates itched. Felt like he had a target on his back. Thankfully, since his arrival on Omega, not one person had come up to him to shake his hand. He liked that.

"I can't believe it's really you! Here on Omega. I don't suppose you remember me, it's me, Conrad Verner."

Oh, Garrus remembered all right. He remembered how seriously Shepard took him, worried that there were others out there, just like him. He could tell how much being put up on a pedestal, even by strangers, had bothered her. That was the moment Garrus had quietly tried to knock down the pedestal he had placed her on.

He just never expected it to crumble as completely as it did. The bitterness he felt when he realized that she was stealing the Normandy, ignoring all the rules that she had so painstakingly told him to follow still tasted like ash in his mouth.

He should have asked her about it when he had the chance. Maybe Shepard would have been able to explain the double standard, make him see why she was able to break the rules while she told him he couldn't. Sure, she saved the galaxy, but he fought for the people who _lived_ in that galaxy. And when he looked closely, he simply couldn't see the difference.

Instead, Garrus let his resentment build. And when he heard that she was dead, and after he attended her funeral, there was no reason to even pretend to follow the rules anymore.

Garrus motioned to Verner to have a seat, all while reacquainting himself where the exits were. He didn't often go out alone anymore. While he mainly wore a helmet on the job, there was always the chance someone, somewhere could recognize Archangel. Simple pleasures like sitting in a bar and having a beer were rare these days.

"I can't believe I'm running into a member of Commander Shepard's team today. I mean, it's today!"

So Conrad kept track, too. A year. She had been gone for a year. A full year. Where the hell had the time gone?

"Keep your voice down, Verner," Garrus said sharply.

A knowing look crossed Conrad's face. "Understood. Still learning the ropes."

"The ropes?"

Conrad patted the N7 logo on his armor. "Decided it was time to make a difference."

"Thought you told Shepard that you were going to stay at home."

_Thought_ you _told Shepard you were going to stay at C-Sec._

Garrus pushed the errant voice away. He refused to listen to that voice with its pang of guilt whenever he thought of what Shepard would say about his life on Omega.

"How are you making a difference?" Garrus asked finally.

"Figure I would talk to people," Conrad said eagerly. "She took the time to talk to me, didn't she?"

Did she ever talk to people. There were times it was almost embarrassing. What right did she have to talk to strangers about genetic therapy? Or chastising someone over their drug use, assuming it didn't interfere with their job? Granted, a lot of people seemed to call her over for help as well. Shepard just had this way of taking a problem and whittling it down to the bone.

"True enough," Garrus admitted. He took another sip of his drink.

"Then I can try to help them with their problems," Conrad said. "I also have this."

Conrad put a pistol on the table. It was a Kessler I, just about the crappiest pistol on the market. Also obsolete, since everyone seemed to have moved on to thermal clips. Conrad looked ridiculously proud of his weapon.

"You know how to shoot that thing?" Garrus asked, unimpressed.

"No," Conrad said at once. "It's mostly for show."

Garrus shook his head. Only show that thing would star in was a comedy vid. "Any chance I can convince you to do what you told her you'd do? Stay home?"

Conrad picked up the weapon and cradled it in his hands. "No."

Standing up, Garrus quickly threw a credit chit on the table. "Follow me." If Conrad Verner wanted to be an idiot in Shepard's name, Garrus would do his best to keep him alive.

He ignored the voice in his head telling him that she'd be pleased.

Garrus led them to the back alley of the bar. There were a stack of crates. "Shoot the top one," he instructed.

"Actually use my gun?" Conrad asked, looking slightly fearful. Garrus nodded. Conrad took a deep breath and muttered to himself a bit. "Okay. Here goes."

His stance was all wrong and aim was off. He ended up hitting the building. But Garrus realized quickly that this wasn't an impossible task. Garrus took the pistol from Conrad's hands and started explaining the basics of shooting. When he was done, Garrus handed the pistol back to Conrad.

The human looked at the gun, and followed Garrus' instructions to the letter. He was a surprisingly quick learner. His next shot wasn't perfect, but he hit the crate.

"Verner," Garrus asked, suddenly curious. "What'd you do before you came here?"

Conrad got quiet and started looking intently at the pistol. "I was a researcher at Sirta Foundation."

Garrus flexed his mandibles in surprise. That corporation only hired the best. "What'd you research?"

Conrad's eyes closed. "Dark Energy."

The look on Conrad's face was one Garrus recognized. It was the look of a man who had seen too much, knew too much and wanted nothing more than to forget. Garrus had seen that look on Shepard's face. But while it had driven Shepard to new heights, it seemed to have broken something in Conrad.

Garrus couldn't help wondering what exactly Conrad knew.

"I believed her, you know?" Conrad said, taking another shot with the pistol. This time he was just left of center. "About the Reapers. Based on what she said, and what I've seen..."

"Yeah," Garrus said, taking the pistol back and adjusting the targeting system just slightly. He handed it back to Conrad.

"We don't have much time left," Conrad said, taking aim. He shoot dead in the center of the crate. "I want to spend it helping people. Why does dark energy matter if we're all going to be dead soon?"

Garrus had no response to that. The certainty in Conrad's voice chilled him. So instead he asked, "You got a place to stay tonight?" He would never bring Conrad back to the base, but he could send him to Helena Blake. Garrus and Blake had a fairly good working relationship, now that she was a legitimate social worker. And Garrus had sent more than his fair share of people to her, knowing she would help, whether freed slaves, addicts or prostitutes.

"There's a shelter over in the Fumi District I stay at," Conrad told him.

"Low on credits?" Garrus asked.

"Who isn't these days?" Conrad said, shrugging his shoulders.

Garrus paused, wondering just how pissed Shepard would be if he spilled her secret. He smiled, deciding she wouldn't mind. "You know, Conrad, there a trick I learned from Commander Shepard herself."

"Really?" Conrad looked more animated than Garrus had seen since they started talking.

"See these crates? They're useful in more ways than one." Garrus walked over to the stack, hoping they'd have what he needed.

He looked in the top crate. Nothing. The second crate, however...

"You mean someone just left a credit chit lying around like that?" Conrad said in wonder. He picked up the chit. "This has a hundred credits on it!"

"That'll last you a while," Garrus said, pleased.

"And Commander Shepard did this?" Conrad asked eagerly.

"Damn straight she did," Garrus said. "It gets better. Bring out your omni-tool."

Conrad complied, and Garrus sent him the hacking program Shepard wrote. "Shepard broke into people's stuff all the time. She said if they didn't care enough to protect their things from a hacking program, they didn't need it."

"Thank you so much! This will really help," Conrad said. "Maybe I could even start saving some credits to donate."

"Not a bad idea," Garrus told him, slapping him on the shoulder. "I need to get going. Don't want to stay in one place for too long."

"I've heard that rule." Conrad tucked his pistol into its holster and held out his hand.  
"Thank you, Vakarian. I really appreciate the help."

Garrus nodded and shook the man's hand. He knew Shepard would want him to make one last attempt to send Conrad home. But the human was right. They were all on borrowed time. Garrus wasn't about to stand between the man and his dream. "You're welcome, Verner. Do good out there. For her."

"I will," he said quietly. With a nod, he turned and walked out of the alley.

He thought of Shepard, hoping that where ever she was, she was at peace. Garrus looked up at the sky and took a deep breath. It was time he stop beating himself up over the past and start concentrating on the future. He thought of his team, and how they were slowly but surely making a difference on Omega. His steps were light as he headed back towards the base. Towards _home._

He was ready to do some good.


End file.
